


Give For What You Take

by emmaliza



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, Discipline, Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Spanking, Spouseless AU, The Wilderness Years, spanking with a belt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-26 00:39:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16209059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: A week after Jason confronts him during lunch together at a restaurant, Gary comes to his house. They both try to make it right.





	Give For What You Take

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from "Freedom '90" by George Michael. Takes place around 2004-ish.
> 
> ~~Also, I am incredibly sorry for all of this.~~

He shouldn't be surprised, when Gary shows up on his doorstep. He shouldn't be, but he is. To be fair, he doesn't even know how Gary got his address – he doesn't think he mentioned it the last time they met, but to be fair, trying to remember the parts of that meeting that weren't just painful and awkward is tricky.

Trying to be polite, Jason ushers Gary into his kitchen, fixes them both a cup of tea – herbal tea for him, old-fashioned Twinings for Gary. He sees Gary open his mouth like he's about to make a jibe about Jason and his herbal teas, the way they all did back in the nineties, but then he bites his lip. He takes a sip from his own mug, the teabag still bobbing in there, and pulls a face like he just burnt his tongue. He puts it down on the counter with a loud thud. “So,” he says.

“So.”

Jason is too stubborn to start the conversation. Gary sighs deeply, and starts looking around, arms wrapping around himself defensively. Jason knows he doesn't want to be here. It's been about a week since their last meeting, since he called Gary up to let him know he was in London, and got him to come to lunch, so Jason could let him know about all the slights and resentments that had been brewing at the back of his mind for the past fifteen years.

It was a foolish idea at the time, and even more foolish once he actually did it. Gary didn't seem to understand. He wasn't hostile, which was a relief, but still – overwhelmingly, he just seemed to want to get out of there. When he left, Jason wouldn't have been surprised if he never saw him again.

And yet, here he is, in Jason's own flat. Why?

Gary doesn't look any more comfortable now than he did back at the restaurant, but he's not leaving. Not yet. For lack of anything else to do with his hands, he reaches for his tea again. “I – I've been thinking a lot about what you told me,” he says.

“...Right.” Jason's not quite sure what to make of that. It could mean anything. He doesn't want to get his hopes up. When he went to that lunch, part of him wanted to believe he could simply call Gary out, and Gary would immediately realise everything he ever did wrong, beg his forgiveness, and Jason could forgive him, and then everything would be fixed.

He knows better, obviously, but he couldn't help but hope.

Gary bites his lip. Clearly, he wants Jason to say something, but Jason won't. He wants Gary to come to it on his own. “I've been thinking about – well,” he hesitates. “A lot of things. I guess.”

Again, that doesn't say much. Jason stays silent, waiting for Gary to continue. He sips his tea.

Gary runs his fingers through his hair, frustrated by the lack of response. “What you told me, about – how I acted. Yeah, I've been thinking about that.”

He sighs deeply. Jason, although quietly, can't help but do the same. There was no way this conversation was not going to be uncomfortable. The conversation at the restaurant was the same. Part of Jason thought he was being foolish for bringing it all up, when it was so long ago – almost a decade now – but at the same time, it needed to be said. Especially if...

_It weren't easy, working for you and Nigel. You were a fucking nightmare._

Gary didn't understand, he never did. Too caught up in his own ambitions. He never understood why Robbie lashed out at him the way he did neither. Jason _did_ , but at the same time, he didn't want to get involved. It's not like him to get in slagging matches in the tabloids.

Not that anyone would have paid attention if he tried.

Gary has averted his eyes, staring very intently at Jason's kitchen floor. “I understand how much you must hate me,” he mumbles.

Part of Jason's icy facade cracks.

“Gaz, I don't _hate_ you,” he blurts out before he's really thought about it. “I was angry at you. I'm still angry at you. That's not the same thing as hating you.”

Gary looks up. He looks genuinely surprised. Jason sighs. It – it would have been easier if he ever could have hated Gaz. If anyone could have hated each other. But their bond was just too strong. It meant something, being part of Take That – and Jason wanted it to mean more than it did. He wanted Gary to choose them, for once, over fame, the solo career he seemed destined for, and Nigel. Always fucking Nigel.

He thinks that must be the reason Robbie said half the things he did. Trying to trick himself into thinking he hated Gary, even if he couldn't fool anyone else.

Jason can't help himself, he puts his tea aside and takes a step closer. Gary draws his own toward his chest defensively. “I just, I want you to know,” he stutters nervously. “I-I didn't mean it. I didn't _mean_ to hurt any of you. I was just...”

“Stupid. Selfish. Greedy.”

Gary winces at each of Jason's words (Rob's words, he's pretty sure), but doesn't deny them.

“Yeah.”

Jason sighs. This is what he wanted, isn't it? For Gary to confess to his sins, ask for his absolution? If so, why doesn't it feel better?

There's another awkward silence, filled only by the sound of Gary gulping his tea. Jason frowns.

“Why did you come here Gaz?”

Gary finally looks up, meets his eye again. “I'm not sure,” he admits. He drains what's left of his tea. “I suppose I just wanted you to know... I wanted...”

His hands are trembling, and gently, Jason prizes the mug from his hands. A thought comes to mind.

As softly as he can, he asks: “Do you want to be punished?”

To his credit, Gary doesn't immediately panic at the question, doesn't ask who the hell says something like that. He just stares, looking utterly lost. “Um,” he says. Jason tries to ignore his own racing heartbeat. “I don't know?”

Jason nods along, and really that is the most he could ask for. Before he can respond, Gary carries on. “I mean, I suppose I don't really want to be punished. I suppose nobody ever really wants to be _punished_.” Jason's not so sure about that, but now doesn't seem the moment for dirty jokes, so he lets Gaz continue. “But I want you to forgive me. I want to earn that. I want...” He sighs again. “I'm just...”

Jason bites his lip. After all, it's not like Gary was the only one of them at fault. Nigel got his claws into all of them – Gaz more than most, but still. Who was it who told Rob to go, in the end?

“What are you not telling me, Gary?” he asks, soft again.

“...I'm afraid,” Gary admits, and it sounds so strange coming from him. The Gary he used to know would never have said such a thing.

Jason hesitates. Suddenly, he remembers the rest of it. He remembers the last time someone had the great idea of getting them all back together, and Nigel wanted to milk them some more, wanted to put them back in front of the cameras to wring out any nostalgia they could. 2002, he thinks it was. And he remembers how Gary reacted. He was _terrified_. There was nothing he wanted less than to be shoved back into the spotlight to be abused and humiliated. From someone who'd always dreamed of being a star, no matter how mad Jason might have been, it was still a little bit heartbreaking.

He's spent as much of the past eight years as he can out of the country, so he's not really up on all the details – he doesn't want to be up on all the details. He knows it'd hurt too much. Besides, the angry twinge in Howard's voice whenever they talk is enough. He knows perfectly well what things have been like for Gaz ever since the band split, the mud he's been dragged through, and even if he's angry, he doesn't have it in him to think that Gary could ever have actually deserved it all.

Gary wants to be punished, but he doesn't want to be _destroyed._ Jason can hardly fault him that.

He takes Gary's hand. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

Gaz stares at him a moment. But then he nods. “Of course.”

And that's the thing. That bond, it's still there. No matter what he says, and no matter what happens.

Jason tugs him forward. “Come.”

* * *

He's not been in this flat very long, and so it is in fact the first time he's – well. Exactly what is as of yet unclear, but it probably counts as breaking his new bedroom in. He's not sure how much meaning he should attribute to that fact.

Gary is clearly nervous, trailing behind Jason, going over to draw the curtains without asking. Jason would tell him off, but he has the right idea. There may not be thousands of fans and paparazzi lurking outside their doors anymore, but if by any chance someone did get a photo, well, it would probably turn up in at least one of the tabloids.

That task completed, Gary's nerves don't lesson any. By the time he takes a seat on the edge of Jason's bed, he's practically trembling. Jason pauses, taking a moment to examine the other man. “Are you alright, Gaz?”

Gary gulps. “Yeah.” His voice comes out high and shaky. It's not terribly convincing.

It's not the first time they've gotten a bit – _this_ with each other. Jason wouldn't have suggested this as a solution to their problems otherwise. Back in the day, they were all fooling around sometimes, mostly just when they couldn't be bothered going to find any one of the perfectly willing girls hovering about. At least, that's what they told each other, and themselves. It rarely went much beyond grinding and handjobs, but still – he and Gaz have been to bed together before, that's not the problem.

But this, the discipline and punishment... that's new. He and Howard got a bit kinky sometimes, but none of them would ever have even thought about trying that with Gary. Gary the prude, Gary the well-behaved (Gary who was probably the most desperate for it of all of them, but you'd never want to tell him that) – surely, he'd just panic and get angry at you. And they all knew that getting Gary angry was more trouble than it was worth.

Jason reminds himself that this is not about sex. They probably won't even have sex. This is about... he doesn't want to say hurting Gary, but it's a little bit true. It's about hurting Gary, like Gary hurt the rest of them. And hence, making it possible for him to _forgive_ Gary for it all. Revenge seems too cruel a word, but what other word is there?

He's getting caught in his head again, and so he shakes the thoughts away, turns to his wardrobe. He considered doing this with just a bare hand, but no, somehow he knows it needs to be worse than that.

It's a black belt he takes from the drawer – the leather is old and soft, it shouldn't be _too_ painful, but still. He turns around and watches Gary shiver once more at the sight of it in his hand. “Gaz,” Jason says, but he has to take pity. He approaches Gary like he would a frightened dog, sneaks a hand beneath his chin to cup his jaw. “You know you don't have to do this, right? I'm not going to force you into anything. I wouldn't do that.”

The gesture seems to reassure Gary, and his eyes slide closed a moment. The tremors start to subside. “I know,” he murmurs, and his eyes pop open again. “Really Jay, I meant what I said before. I do trust you. I'm just...” he sighs. “Nervous.”

“Fair enough.” Jason's more than a little nervous himself. He can't help but worry this is a bad idea. You really do need _trust_ for this sort of thing, and despite what Gaz just said – they've barely seen each other for the past eight years, can Gary really trust him that much?

Can he really trust Gary that much?

Jason swallows the lump in his throat. Despite his nerves, he does think this is the right thing to do. He thinks this is what they both need. Even as Gary's eyes go wide staring at the black leather in his hand.

“I'm meant to have some sort of word, right?” Gary asks, not looking away from the belt a second, in case it makes a surprise attack. “Like, a safe word?”

Jason raises an eyebrow. Well, clearly Gary must know _something_. “That's right,” he says. “Have you thought of anything?”

Gary meets his eye again, seemingly relieved to have a practical problem to focus on. He furrows his brow. “...I can't just say 'no', then?”

Jason has to laugh. “You know what, if you think you won't blurt that out every time it hurts a bit too much, without really meaning it, that's fine. It's a fairly fluid concept.”

A small half-smile spreads across Gary's face. “Oh, don't worry,” he says. “I promise I can keep quiet. Honest.”

Jason smiles in return, and then a silence falls between them. Gary coughs awkwardly. “So,” he says, “should I...?” He makes a vague gesture, presumably referring to getting into position. Whatever that position that might be.

“It would help if you took off your clothes first,” Jason points out.

Silence. Gary just stares. Clearly he didn't think of that. “Right.” His hand drifts up toward his collar, but then he hesitates. “Is that, um, really necessary?”

Jason doesn't understand at first, but then he watches the way Gary's eyes break away from his face, staring at his own belly instead. _Oh._ Jason gets hit with a wave of sympathy.

“Gaz, I'm not going to judge you,” he insists, maybe too strenuously. “This is just practical. I promise, whatever you look like under there, it won't make any difference.”

“...Right.” Jason is quite annoyed with himself. He knows Gary was always insecure about his weight, even back in the day, and he should have thought of this earlier. Still, Gary – somewhat reluctantly – starts to unbutton his shirt, tossing it aside. His hands are still shaking a little when he reaches for the fly of his jeans, leaving them in a pile on the floor with his underwear. It's not too neat, but that's neither here nor there.

Jason bites his lip. Despite trying to remind himself that this is not really about sex, he can't help but get a kick out of watching Gary strip off for him, left naked and vulnerable while he is still completely clothed. It was always the other way round, back in the day. _Be good,_ he tells himself, and as he takes a second to examine Gary's body he smiles. “Is this what you were so ashamed of?” he asks, and Gaz gives him a puzzled look. Alright, maybe he still has a few spare pounds on him – but still, Jason can't imagine anyone kicking him out of bed. “You're gorgeous, Gaz. You always were.”

Gary starts blushing at that, averts his eyes once more. “You're only saying that so I won't get mad when you start bashing my arse in.” Jason laughs, and pulls Gary close to his side, running his fingers through the other man's hair comfortingly. Gary leans into his belly a moment, his fingers running up and down Jason's left thigh. Then he pulls back.

“Suppose we really should get on with it now, then?” he asks.

Jason nods. “On your hands and knees, Gaz.”

Gary opens his mouth once more, as if he's going to say something. But he doesn't. He swallows hard and turns around, hesitantly lowering himself into position, on all fours on Jason's barely used bed. It's a submissive position. Degrading. But that, after all, is sort of the point.

Vaguely, Jason can hear his own heartbeat thumping in his chest, the same vague terror of everything that could happen to him if he dares step out of line like this. He runs the leather belt through his hands, and tries to draw on those memories – the fear and the exhaustion, and Gary's snide remarks, his thoughtless dismissals, his constant self-assurance – the way he always seemed to have Nigel's ear, even if, in the end, Jason knows it was always Nigel controlling him, and not vice versa.

It's not until he sees another shiver run through Gary's body that he strikes with the belt, folded over his hand, and Gary gasps at the shock before cursing into the sheets. “Fuck,” he says, “how many times to we have to do this?”

Already there's a red mark blossoming on Gary's behind. Jason swallows hard. “Twenty,” he says, as much as it's a round number as anything. He ought to have an answer. He ought to have thought of that earlier, really.

“Twenty?!”

Something about Gary's indignant tone of voice gets to Jason. He hits again with the belt, harder this time, and listens to Gary moan in pain. “Yes,” he says, his voice as hard and as solid as he can make it. “It would help if you counted too.”

A few seconds silence, and only the sound of Gary's panting fills the air, before Jay sees his jaw snap shut. “Right,” he says quietly, remembering his place. _Good_. “O-on with it then.”

Jason purses his lips together, and then lets the belt smack him once more, earning a gasp and stifled whimper. “Three,” Gary announces, and well, it's good he's not lost track already. Then again, Gaz always was the organised type. Jason hits once more and it gets him a full-blown whine. “Four,” Gary spits. By now, there are bright red marks spread across both his cheeks.

Those moans and whimpers, they get under Jason's skin, of course they do. He takes a moment to recover, reminding himself that it's not about sex. Gary is naked and on his hand and knees on Jason's bed, whining as Jason abuses his arse, but it's not about sex. Right. Jason doesn't buy his own bullshit here, but he tries to ignore it. He ignores it because he needs to. Because that's not what Gary needs from him.

He strikes again with the belt, twice in rapid succession, and Gary moans again as his chest sags closer to the mattress. “Five, six,” he gasps, and Jay notes the slightest beginnings of a welt on his right buttock. He wonders if he's going too far. He wonders if he's not going far enough.

He hits again.

Gary moans, now biting the sheets to keep himself under control. “Seven.” The word comes out muffled, but Jason never told Gary not to do that, and so he can hardly tell Gary off for it. Jason's blood is rushing, and when he delivers the next strokes, the words “eight, nine,” echoing vaguely in his ears, he knows he's hard without having to check. This makes him want Gaz. This makes him want Gaz as he is right now, supplicant and oh so apologetic.

The tenth strike is the most vicious so far.

Gary practically screams at it, and afterward he lets out a choked sob, the pain clearly getting to him. Jason feels a dull wave of guilt for how that does not make him any less hard. He clenches his fist to keep from touching himself through his trousers. _We're up to ten,_ he reminds himself. _We're halfway through. We're getting there._

It would be easy enough, really, to forget the whole spanking thing and just _fuck_ him. To take advantage of the position he's already got Gaz in and just have his way, get some relief from the strange mix of lust and lingering resentment seeping through his body. It would accomplish much the same thing, give him a sense of power Gary he could never of have had in the nineties (of course, he advanced enough to know that penetration is not the same thing as power, but he's not sure Gary is). Gary probably would agree. He wants so badly to make it up to Jason – to all of them. And, it would probably hurt a lot less.

But, that's not what Gary agreed too. So Jason can't do that to him. That's where all this began, because none of them – especially Gary, but really all of them – could understand each other's boundaries. If their band is ever going to be anything again, then they have to know there are things they cannot do to each other.

That's a strange thought.

Jason lets the sexual frustration spur him on, whipping Gary's arse once more, getting another loud cry. “Eleven,” Gary mumbles. By now, his whole body's dropped toward the bed, cowering from the belt. And yet, he's still trying. He's never once asked Jason to stop. He really is trying to make it all up, even if they both know this can't really compensate for all that's passed between them, and that means something.

Gently, Jason brushes his spare hand between Gary's shoulder blades, trying to soothe away the tension there. “It's alright,” he whispers. “You're alright. You're doing really well, Gaz.” And Gary moans, arching into his touch. Jason pulls away, lest he get too distracted.

“Twelve,” he says as he brings the belt down once more, and he realises he just fucked that up, but as Gary whines and grasps the sheets beneath him, it doesn't seem to matter.

He hits again and Gary picks right back up for him. “Thirteen,” he says and it's like they really are working together, for what might be the first time in their lives.

His hand is sore and red by now – not as sore and red as Gary's arse, of course, but still. His chest heaves with the effort as his prick pushes against the front of his jeans. _Focus._ He makes himself breathe slowly, tries to remember one of the tricks Lulu taught him, and then he strikes Gary with the belt again, watches the bruises turn purple. “Fifteen.” Another choked sob. Another hit. “Sixteen.” Gary has all but collapsed into the bed by now.

Jason feels _something_. What he's not quite sure. Guilt, that this is what he wanted. Confusion, that he's getting off on it so much. And fondness, because Gary's let him do this.

He winds his fingers through Gary's short blonde hair, trying to soothe away the pain once more. “It's alright,” he whispers. “You're alright. We're almost done Gaz, we're almost there.” Really, he's trying to reassure himself as much as Gary.

Gary moans again, keening to the touch. He turns his head, rubbing his stubbled jaw against Jason's hand. “Jay,” he pants. “Fuck, Jay.”

Jason is taken aback by the gesture, the need in it – it's not like Gary to expose himself like that. It gives him the feeling he really has broken through Gary's walls for once. This has been a punishment, yes, but it's been more than that. He grasps Gary's jaw softly. “I've got you,” he promises.

Gary mumbles something, and presses a kiss to Jason's palm. Then Jason gets back to work.

The next two strikes he delivers one after the other, quickly, wanting to finish this. Gary gasps and clutches at the sheets again, squirming against the mattress. “Seventeen, eighteen,” he whispers, barely audible, but Jason hears him. You could never not hear him.

They're almost done, and Jay feels relieved. Partly because he's going to need to sneak to the bathroom for a wank after all this, but also – he thinks it's worked. The anger has all seeped out of him, and he feels like he could love Gary again, the way they all tried to love each other back in the day, but nothing ever quite let them. He feels a sense of pride looking at Gary's bruised and battered arse, yes, but also – he wants to kiss it better.

Now there's a thought.

His nineteenth stroke is softer, more a tap than anything. But Gary gasps and moans anyway, and his skin looks so raw that it probably hurts like hell anyway.

“Nineteen,” Gary sobs, and he knows it's almost over. Jason sees him trembling again. It's like now they've started, finishing it makes him as nervous as doing it in the first place.

This is probably what Robbie wanted, Jason thinks with a wave of sadness. A chance to break through Gary's facade, a chance to make him bend to someone else's will. But Gary could never have let him do this, back then. He could never let him do it now. He wouldn't trust that Rob would know when to stop.

But they can work on that.

Jason stretches out the moment, delaying the last strike as long as he can possibly get away with. It's not for his sake. For his part, his body is nagging him to get this over with and give himself some relief. It's for Gary. Gary needs it to last just a little bit longer, and so, Jason lets it. He doesn't mind. Now Gary isn't demanding anything of him, it's much easier to give him what he wants.

He waits until the nerves in Gary's body seem to settle, replaced with confusion. He's wondering if it's over, if maybe he miscounted. It's then Jason whips him one more time – hard, sharp, a biting climax that makes Gary muffle a scream against the sheets. “Twenty,” he says softly, not waiting for Gaz to keep counting for him, and he tosses the belt aside.

Gary is still moaning, squirming against Jason's sheets, and Jason finally gets a moment to take in the extent of the damage he's inflicted. Gary's arse is covered with vicious red marks, bruises and welts, some of them on the edge of bleeding. _Fuck_. Quickly, Jason hops down onto the bed, pulls Gary's shaking body into his arms. “Shh, shh, it's over now. It's over.”

As his bare back collides with Jason's clothed chest, Jason feels Gary freeze up. “Jay, I'm alright, you don't have to...” but his words trail off, and as Jason wraps his arms around Gary's soft belly, he feels the other man lean back into him, soaking up the comfort. And so Jason keeps holding him, pressing absent-minded kisses along his shoulderblades, making it better.

Gary squirms again, and then he hisses in pain as his raw skin brushes against Jason's denim-clothed crotch. Jason suddenly remembers how aroused he still is, and pulls back.

“Sorry, Gaz,” he mutters, embarrassed, and not wanting Gary to think – well. Something. Though if he thinks it through, he's not sure Gary even will have noticed. “You don't have to do anything. Not if you don't want to. I know that's not what we agreed.”

There's a pause, and then with another moan of pain, Gary rolls on his side to face Jason once more. Jason finally gets to look him in the eye again. His cheeks are red and blotchy, his eyes stained with tears – what you would expect, really. And yet, also in his eye there's a faint spark.

“Do you want me to do something, Jay?” he asks softly, and then finally Jason's eyes drift down his body, and... oh.

He's not the only one getting off on this. Gary's erection is perfectly obvious, and rather impressive – he's wet with arousal. Well, that explains all the squirming. _I'm a bloody idiot,_ thinks Jason.

He wouldn't really have taken Gary for the type, but before he can really consider the matter, he feels a hand snaking up his inner thigh. He grabs it and squeezes harshly. “Gary.” He glares.

Gary stops for a second, and looks away, abashed. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I don't mean to push. I just...” Slowly, he meets Jason's eye again. He bites his lip. “I just want to please you Jay, that's all. I want you to know I can do that. I-I still want to make it up to you.” He smiles faintly. “It's one way to apologise, right?”

Jason hesitates. Gary means well – he usually does. But Jason isn't willing to give up his newfound authority that easily. On the other hand, he does in fact want to get off.

Considering the situation carefully, Jason makes his decision. “Get up,” he orders, and Gary looks wounded. “On your knees.” At that, Gary looks relieved. He knows what that means, and – he's looking forward to it.

He stands up, legs a little shaky as he undoes his fly. Gary kneels on the bed, and he has to adjust himself several times to avoid agonising his beaten skin. Eventually, he settles for a position with his thighs clenched together, but his legs spread wide from the knee, his arse sticking out in the air and hence, being as unstrained as possible.

Jason takes himself in hand, his jeans falling down barely below his arse, and strokes himself a couple of times as he examines the look on Gary's face. Gary isn't looking at him, again. Instead he's staring at Jason's cock, eyes wide. Jason knows better than to think that's because it's particularly impressive.

“Gary?” he asks, snapping the other man back to reality. “Is this really what you want? Is this how you want to please me?”

It takes him a moment, but Gary does look up at Jason's face again, and he nods. With his spare hand, Jason presses a thumb to Gary's bottom lip, grasps his jaw again, and Gary's mouth drops open obligingly. Jason can't help but smile. “Good boy,” he says.

Gary's face turns even redder at those words, but he doesn't pull away as Jason takes a step closer, brushes Gary's lips with the head of his cock. Whether this counts as teasing, or testing the waters, is really a matter of perspective. Gary's lips part even wider – Jason suddenly remembers he always could open his mouth _so_ wide – and he groans, eyes fluttering closed as he lets Jason explore his face. He does mouth at it, doesn't try to suck it down, not yet. He digs his nails into his right thigh instead. He's trying to be patient, trying to be good. He's trying to do what he's told.

Jason pushes forward, between those thin pink lips, and he immediately, instinctively groans at the feeling of a mouth enclosing his cock, after he's been hard for so long. He winds his fingers through Gary's hair again – not to pull him forward or push him down, but to keep a handle on him, to keep things going at the pace he chooses.

Gary still has to bob his head so he can take Jason's cock in his mouth properly – he has a fair few inches on Gaz, but not that many. But still, he doesn't complain. Gary has his eyes closed and he takes Jason's cock as deep in as Jason will let him. He seems to be enjoying himself. Moreover, he seems to be enjoying the thought that _Jason_ is enjoying himself.

He pulls Gary down further and he feels a tongue swipe across his slit; he gasps as the precome starts to drip onto Gary's tongue. It's clumsy – that tongue runs up and down and all around his cock, like Gary isn't really sure what to do with it. He probably hasn't done this in years, if ever – Jason can't remember Gary doing this to him in the nineties, that's for sure. But it's still good. Gary's mouth wraps tighter around him and he really starts to _suck_ , letting Jason guide him up and down, up and down, drool slipping down his chin as he bobs his head faster, licks up the fluid greedily, and Jason groans, throwing his head back. For a moment, he lets himself forget it all. Everything this is and is meant to be. For a second, it's just a mate helping him out with his mouth, and Jason is more than grateful.

It's not going to take long; he pushed himself to the limit with that spanking and now he's trying not to push Gary's limits too much, but it's difficult when his cock is aching and he just wants to shove all the way down Gary's throat and fuck it raw – but he won't. He's got two hands in Gary's hair and he pushes him deeper on every thrust; Gary gags every time Jason's cock grazes his gag reflex – but Jason won't do that. He feels his orgasm creeping up on him, a shudder running up his spine – Gary moans at the taste of precome on his tongue, and then, at the last possible moment, Jason pushes him away.

Gary's left panting, lips red and open as he looks up at Jason, bewildered. “Is something wrong?” he asks, a thin string of saliva still connecting his mouth to Jason's groin.

Jason isn't quite sure. His cock tells him to come in Gary's mouth and worry about the rest of it later, but that's not like him. He looks down and sees Gary's own erection, just as red and wet as his, and then he realises. “I want you to touch yourself for me,” he announces. Gary furrows his brows in confusion, and Jason smiles indulgently. “I don't want to hurt you Gaz, not really. I just need you to know that you're not going to be in control all the time.” Gary still looks puzzled, and Jason slaps the side of his face gently. “That means, when I tell you to wank yourself off for me, you do it.”

There's a gasp, and then Gary – staring into Jason's eyes – nods. Jason guides him back onto his cock, just as Gary moves his hand and starts stroking himself.

It's even clumsier now Gary is distracted, moaning in pleasure as he takes Jason as far down as he dares, but that's okay. None of this needs to be perfect. They both need to know that they're on the same page, both trying to enjoy it, both trying to make each other enjoy it, and as Jason digs his thumbs into the back of Gary's neck he can feel the tremble there, he can feel Gary's pleasure, and then he starts to come.

He comes hard and heavy down the back of Gaz's throat, and he does not worry whether he can take it. He knows he will. He knows he'll do his best.

Gary moans, and he swallows, like he never thought there was any other option. Jason's eyes are rolling back in his head Gary's still wanking himself off, eager and needy, until he spends with a muffled sob around Jason's cock, come splashing all over his thighs, and it's all messy and tangled and _good_. It's what they both needed.

He sighs and shudders a few seconds more as his cock softens inside Gary's mouth, eventually slipping out quietly, a trail of spit and come down his cheek. Jason wipes it away with his thumb while Gary leans against him, holding onto his thighs for support. “You alright, Gaz?”

Gary groans, squirming against him. “Sore. Tired. I don't even want to know what my arse looks like.” Jason chuckles. Yeah, he probably doesn't. Gary looks up. “But yeah, I'm alright.” He hesitates. “...Is it bad that I think I enjoyed it?”

Frankly, Jason had started to suspect that. “No, that's fine,” he says, but Gary still looks uncertain.

“You know, I _am_ sorry.”

Jason sighs. Yes, he does know that. And it would be nice to think that this just fixed it all, that all the demons are gone, and they can just be mates again, pure and simple.

Of course, things are never that simple, not in their bloody band. It will probably take more work than this – not to be friends again, he's sure enough they are friends again (if not more), but to be what they once were. To be Take That, the band that ruled the world once upon a time.

Jason never thought he'd want that back. He's not one to chase fame for fame's sake – not like Gary. He got tired of all the screaming by 1993. And yet, he does want _something_ back. Them. He wants the boys he knew and loved, the boys who broke his heart. The boys who all broke each other's hearts.

This hasn't quite accomplished that, not yet. But, this isn't a bad start.

“I know, Gary,” he says as he sits back down on the bed, presses a kiss to Gaz's temple. “Come on, let's get some sleep.”

Gary makes a puzzled noise, but when Jason pulls him back down onto the bed, carefully arranging their bodies so as to put as little strain as possible on Gary's arse. “It's the middle of the afternoon,” he points out.

“I don't need to be anywhere,” Jason answers blithely, and Gary does answer back, already curling up his chest and drifting off. _Sleepyhead,_ Jason thinks fondly. Gary was always like that. Jason and his insomnia always rather envied it.

Lying here together, it's easy enough to think they could be something again someday. Not just him and Gaz, but all of them, Howard, Mark... even Robbie. At least for a little while.

They cuddle as easily as they did all those years ago, but as burrows his face in Gary's neck, Jason isn't thinking about the past. He's thinking about the future.

 


End file.
